


Drowse

by sarahgene12



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, F/M, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, MD/LB - Freeform, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 04:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17217401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahgene12/pseuds/sarahgene12
Summary: Roger Taylor seems like a hardcore bad boy, but his mommy knows better. Sometimes it all gets to be too much, and he needs to be held, and comforted, and cared for. What she can't do, Brian can learn.





	Drowse

You weren’t ashamed of what was going on between you and Roger, it suited you both very well. And you definitely were aware that Roger had grown careless about the nature of your relationship, that the stress and chaos of the current tour was weighing more heavily on him than any before. As a result, the number of times he pleaded with you to come into his room, or his area of the bus, grew in frequency and in length.  
It was the way he’d come and found you the previous night, however, that had to have finally done it. Usually there was time for a couple of drinks and quick smokes after a show, in the dressing rooms, before everything was loaded and everyone packed up to move on. Last night, Brian, John, and Freddie had stayed on with the crew, joking and carrying on as usual, but when you’d gone to check on Roger, you’d only just glimpsed him, practically running towards the bus.  
“Rog? Hey, Roger!”  
You followed him at a jog, becoming concerned when he didn’t turn around at the sound of your voice.  
You were close enough behind that you were clambering up the steps in time to see him make a beeline for the back of the bus, where you’d strung up a comforter to act as a makeshift door. Even that had raised few questions from the other three, who thought they knew why the two of you wanted more privacy.  
“Rog? Hey, are you okay?” When he didn’t answer, you pushed the curtain to one side, to find Roger curled up in a tight ball on the far corner of the bed. His hair covered his face, and he seemed to be shaking.  
You went to him, sitting close enough beside him that your hip touched his. Wrapping your arms around him, you pulled him up, and hugged him close.  
“Hey, hey, ssh, baby boy, what’s the matter, huh? Mommy’s here, mommy’s got you.” His long blonde hair is soaked with sweat, but you pushed it back from his face as well as you can, running your fingers through it gently to loosen the knots.  
He buries his face in the side of your neck, whining a little. “I’m really tired, Mommy. I don’t want to go to a party or anything, I just want to go to sleep.” Slowly, languidly, he scoots himself closer to you and pulls himself into your lap, making that small mewling sound he always did when he was especially worn out.  
You sit for a little while, rubbing his back in slow, small circles, breathing in the sharp, salty smell of his sweaty skin, wishing there was somewhere you could go to clean him up properly.  
You nudge him gently. “Baby? I’m going to go look for something to clean you up with. Then we can get you undressed and into bed, okay? Would you like that?”  
He whines a little as you untangle yourself from his limbs, but nods sleepily.  
You walk back into the venue through the back door, following the winding hallways back the way you’d first come, until you hear the others in what sounds like the middle of an intensifying argument, with Freddie at the helm.  
You’ve gotten used to this, and barge right in. Brian sees you first, and lowers the hardcover book he’s seemed to have raised with the intent of using it as a weapon.  
“You alright then, Emma? What’s happened to Rog?”  
You start pacing about the room, looking for anything that might be of use. “Do we have any soap, or bowls or anything? Is there anywhere I can get hot water?”  
He catches up to you, putting a hand on your arm and asks again, “What’s happened to Rog? Is he okay?” His eye contact is intense.  
You nod, trying to hide the impatience you’re actually feeling. “Yeah, he’s fine, he just wants to get cleaned up and there isn’t much as far as facilities around here.”  
You spot what you need and make a beeline for it, scooping up a large metal bowl, a couple of folded hand towels, and the wrapped bar of soap beside what seemed to be the only sink in the whole building. You draw water into the bowl, testing its heat with the tips of your fingers, and leave the room without another word to anyone.  
When you get back to the bus, the comforter is drawn across the back of the bus, and you don’t hear anything from behind it.  
“Rog? Baby?” Careful not to spill any water, you pull back the curtain to find Roger fighting hard to stay awake. He’s still sitting up, but his chin is touching his chest, and when he hears you come in he barely seems able to raise it, his eyes heavy-lidded and unfocused.  
“I tried to stay awake ‘cause you asked me to. Are you gonna clean me up, mommy?”  
You touch his cheek, and set the bowl of water on the tiny side table. “Yes, my beautiful boy, I am. Can you take your shirt off for me?”  
He does as you ask, letting his shirt fall to the floor.  
“Here, scoot up to the edge of the bed for me, that’s it.” He does this too, and as he’s moving forward you hear the door of the bus click shut, and the whole thing shifts a little.  
“Hello? Roger? Emma?”  
You look at Roger, who hasn’t reacted. You hesitate for just a moment, then call out, “Yeah, we’re back here, Brian.”  
You keep moving, turning your back on the curtain to dip one of the hand towels in the water, wring it out, and lather it with soap. In the time it takes you to do this, Brian pulls aside the curtain and enters the space.  
You look at him, almost challengingly. But he doesn’t look shocked, in fact his expression is tender as he watches Roger, who is very nearly keening over with exhaustion. Then he looks back at you.  
“Can I help?”  
You smile. “Um, yeah, if you could kind of, hold him up while I wash him? He gets heavier when he’s this tired.”  
Brian unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off, sitting down on the bed on the other side of Roger. He holds Roger steady by his shoulders, as you push Roger’s hair back off his face and wipe his forehead and cheeks with the damp cloth.  
Roger closes his eyes, humming lowly in his throat.  
“Does that feel good, baby?” you coo, loving the way his eyelashes flutter when he’s content like this. Roger’s head lolls in the way of a nod and he murmurs, “Yes, mommy, thank you.”  
Your attention jumps suddenly to Brian, who looks at you but again, doesn’t seem a bit put off.  
“It’s alright, I don’t think it’s weird. It’s nice, actually, the way you take care of him. I can see the appeal in it, from either side.”  
You’re not sure what to say to that, but you do breathe a little easier. “Could you hold up his hair? I want to get his neck.” Brian obliges, bunching Roger’s hair into a loose ponytail with his fingers. His other hand steadies Roger at his lower back, moving when you need him to but always somehow supporting the tired blonde.  
When you turn back to rinse the cloth, Brian makes sure Roger stays upright; now that his back is clean, Brian has a hand pressed there again, and his other is wrapped around Roger’s forearm.  
“There now, doesn’t that feel better?” He asks Roger, his voice even quieter and gentler than usual. “She takes good care of you, doesn’t she, this one? And you’re being so good, which is really something because I know how rotten you can be when you’re tired.”  
You pick up the dry towel and turn back, looking at Brian curiously. He meets your eyes, but you think you can see him blushing a little.  
“Do you want to dry him off while I get him a clean shirt?”  
He hesitates for a only a second or two before taking it.  
“Now, lift your arms for me, there we go, there’s a good boy. Almost done, I promise,” murmured Brian, and you couldn’t help but peek over your shoulder as you dug for a shirt. Brian dried Roger’s face last, patting instead of rubbing, repeatedly running his long fingers through the young man’s hair even more slowly than you had.  
When you came back to the bed, you handed the shirt to Brian, and he managed to wrestle Roger’s now nearly deadweight form into it, the two of you now working together to hold him up and dress him.  
It took both of you to pull the covers back and get the bottom half of Roger’s body under them.  
Roger wriggled a little once he was tucked in, and then, just before he drifted completely off to sleep, turned over on his stomach, he mumbled into the pillow: “Thank you Mommy, thank you Daddy.” Then he was out.  
You looked at Brian, smirking a little. Now he looked a little taken aback.  
“Don’t worry, we don’t have to make a habit of this if you don’t want to. And the others don’t necessarily need to know.”  
Brian bent down and picked up his shirt, shrugging into it. “No, I—I don’t mind. I liked helping. Thanks for letting me.”  
You leaned over and kissed him quickly on the cheek, then winked. “No problem, Daddy.”


End file.
